


like a fist crusted with someone else's blood

by daydoodles



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: (I think?), Blood, Canon Compliant, Complicated Relationships, Dysfunctional Relationships, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 12:35:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7051756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daydoodles/pseuds/daydoodles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Your bottom lip was bruised for a week, like meat."</p><p>Or, Nursey and Dex have a lot of issues neither one wants to address.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like a fist crusted with someone else's blood

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm deep in Nurseydex hell and I came across [this poem](http://textploit.com/varsity/), and fuck I got inspired. This little oneshot probably doesn't do it justice but it's SO Nurseydex I couldn't help myself?? (All the italics are excerpts from that poem)
> 
> Also please note I don't romanticise/condone any type of dysfunction or violence in a relationship, but I live for angst and I needed to vent so naturally I took it out on my babies. x

_Practice is tomorrow at five. Congrats on making varsity, by the way._

The first time Derek Nurse meets William Poindexter, he knows he’s either going to love him or hate him. He isn't exactly sure how he knows this, but maybe it's a poet’s intuition; he's always been too sensitive for his own good. And when he finds out that he’ll be paired with Dex on the defensive line, he feels his heart stutter a little bit because he doesn't know how he should react to that information. Or how he wants to react.

So he just smiles, keeping his face in its usual facade of “chill”; relaxed, unworried, in no hurry to put a label on anything - all the things Derek himself isn't. And Dex is not good at hiding his emotions, so Derek knows he's beyond excited to be on the team at all, even if they won't be starters till Ransom and Holster have graduated. It's enough for Dex, so it's enough for Derek, and he just congratulates his new partner as Coach Murray rambles in the background about the importance of punctuality.

-

_The jersey is a good colour on you, like a blood-fat lip. Remember when I gave you one of those?_

Their bickering is a near-constant; at any given time, they can be heard arguing loudly over some unimportant issue or another. It's never violent, or at least it never used to be, but one day Derek says something that just sends Dex over the edge.

He can't remember what he says, now, that sets Dex off so suddenly - though, all things considered, it wasn't so sudden. It just escalated quickly, and Derek hadn't expected it. So Dex lands a punch right to Derek’s cheek, close to the eye socket, and Derek swears he can feel the blood vessels breaking before Dex has even pulled his hand back. It's probably the poet in him, romanticising something as gruesome as what’s sure to become a black eye, but Derek finds that he doesn't care. He just wants contact, interaction, something to ground him to the here and now, with Dex. So he punches back.

His fist collides with Dex’s mouth, and Derek tells himself it's like a kiss, except he can't get past the fact it's his knuckles doing the caressing and not his lips. And Dex is equally unsatisfied; he spits blood, swipes at his split lower lip with a thumb, and glares. He looks like he wants to lunge at Derek again, but the coach is already between them, so he can't do much of anything. Blood is still streaming down his chin when he's escorted to the nurse by Bitty; Derek pretends not to notice the way it snakes down his neck like Derek wishes his kisses could.

He also pretends not to notice how strange it is that Dex looks good in blood red; after all, shouldn't it clash with his fiery hair? It should, and yet it doesn't. Derek is reminded of this every time they suit up for a game, and he isn't sure which he prefers: the maroon mesh of a jersey brushing over Dex’s hair as he dresses, or the vibrant red of liquid trickling over his freckles from a gash in his tempting lip.

-

_You got upset, left my house by dinnertime. The next day on the field, you looked at me like you expected something._

They manage to avoid any more violent outbursts, by some miracle or blessing from the universe or whatever else people believe in. Derek believes it's thanks to Bitty’s “please don't murder each other” mini pies, which are sweet cherry and ironically as deep red as the blood Derek wants to spill down Dex’s face.

But they have a long weekend right around midterms, and Derek invites Dex to come to his house, since his moms would love to meet Dex and honestly what else has Dex got to do? So Dex agrees, begrudgingly, and that's how they find themselves speeding down the interstate on Friday afternoon, Derek staring out the window of Dex’s old Ford truck, Dex humming along to some CD he's got playing. Derek doesn't recognise the music, but he appreciates the lyrics in silence.

When they finally reach his house, Dex just kind of shuts down. And Derek had been expecting something of this sort to happen - Dex comes from a very different living situation, he reminds himself. But he isn't prepared for Dex to outright glower at his house, and he starts to rethink this notion of having a relaxing weekend at home with his moms and his (arguably) best friend. He thinks maybe he underestimated how much of an effect this would have on Dex.

But Dex swings the door open tersely, and hops down onto the driveway so fast Derek is scrambling to follow him to the front door, and then Derek’s knocking once before walking over the threshold with a lazy, “Moms, I'm home!”

They’re both in the kitchen, watching the Food Network while they cook because it “sets the mood,” and it's all so familiar yet somehow distant that Derek considers just moving back home right then and there. But then they ask if this is the Dex they've heard so much about, and Derek says yes, and then somehow Dex is roped into fixing the garbage disposal and Derek doesn't have the heart to tell him he can just call a plumber in the morning. So when he's done, Derek tells him he can watch whatever he wants on the TV in the living room, and follows him down onto the couch, a full cushion between them.

It's too close and not close enough all at once, and Derek notices that Dex has turned on some war movie playing on Hallmark, but it's not really registering because he's too focused on memorising Dex’s profile. As luck would have it, he's wearing red today, a flannel the colour of wine and Derek wonders absently if his lips taste the same.

The movie drones on, the light from the digital screen bouncing off of Dex’s cheekbones like starlight, and Derek can't handle this silence, because TV lighting makes him feel brave and if he doesn't start talking he'll be tempted to do other things with his mouth. So when the scene cuts to a commercial for some smoothie blender, he leans over and asks Dex if he's heard of the latest nuclear technology.

Derek himself isn't too invested in the current standards of warfare, but he keeps up with politics enough to be vaguely knowledgeable, and he can't think of anything to say to Dex that isn't highly embarrassing so he sticks to the topic at hand. Which, at the moment, is war, since Dex apparently likes tragedies. Derek files that information away for later, wonders if that means Dex likes him.

But Dex is obviously uncomfortable with the idea of killing anonymous people; for all the damage they're doing, their victims deserve to have a face, at least. He says so, and Derek is inclined to agree, but then again it's so much safer to just snipe someone from outer space than going to the trouble of getting close enough to see them. Dex fires back some smartass remark about human decency, and Derek reminds him that decency pretty much goes to shit once you get involved in war. It sparks an argument the likes of which they haven't had in a long time, and Dex storms out before Derek can stop him.

He eats dinner alone with his moms, and no one mentions Dex’s unexplained disappearance. Dex comes back hours later, goes straight to the guest room and shuts the door behind him. The drive back to Samwell is so tense Derek feels like his ribcage might be collapsing, but he also doesn't give a damn.

The next day at practise, Dex keeps glancing his direction, like he's waiting for something. Derek doesn't know what he wants. Whatever it is, it never comes, because Dex leaves his post-practise shower looking especially damp and deflated.

-

_Then my anger grew a body, and it wanted to crash into your body - wanted to make it sorry._

Dex has always been quick to anger, for as long as Derek has known him. It's not exactly that he's defensive, or has particular trouble controlling his emotions; more likely, Dex would rather fight physically than emotionally, because he isn't emotional and what emotions he has let himself feel haven't been good ones.

Derek does learn little things, snapshots of Dex’s life before Samwell: the time he was seven and the pastor told him to pray “extra hard” to atone for his violent nature, the summer at camp when he was fourteen and no one wanted to share a room with him because they found out he liked boys. All the times he'd been insulted, or used, or looked down on, and the only response he knew was to fight back.

Derek thinks Dex’s anger may be contagious; and he doesn't mean it in a bad way, despite how condescending it sounds in his head. But he does know that Dex lights a fire in him; he wants to get angry, if for no other reason than to feel, and he wants to fight for what he feels. Derek has always been handed whatever he needed, whatever he wanted; and he thinks maybe now is the time to finally learn what is means to have to fight for something. To have something worth fighting for.

So he fights for Dex. If he hears anyone making backhanded comments about him (which people do, surprisingly often), or catches someone judging Dex as they give him a once-over, he can't help but intervene. And it doesn't really turn violent, mostly, because he's a writer after all and his battles are fought with the pen. Or in this case, the mouth.

But he doesn't want to do battle that way; he wants to come unhinged, to break away from the structure that words so easily allow. But he can't, because that's Dex; and he isn't. So he wants to make Dex sorry, and he abandons fighting for Dex and fights with Dex instead.

-

_Look, I know I never apologised, but you never asked me to. We’re a team now._

Derek is not one to force an apology out of another person, regardless of the offence for which they should be sorry, because he knows it doesn't mean anything if it's just regurgitated lines about forgiveness and not genuine remorse. So he doesn't bring up past fights, and neither does Dex. They don't talk about it, and at some point it occurs to Derek they never will.

They function as a unit better now, if for no other reason than the simple fact they have their anger in common. It's different for each of them, in their own way; Dex is a hurricane of rage, leaving chaos in his wake, and Derek is the eye of the storm, seemingly calm yet devastating all the same. They work together, somehow, and it starts to show outside of hockey, too.

They don't need to apologise, because actions speak louder than words, and working in harmony is more apology than any “I'm sorry” could ever hope to be.

-

_So stop looking at me like that, like you want me to hit you, or kick you, or bite your lip until it bleeds._

Derek has always been aware, somewhere in the back of his mind, maybe his subconscious, of the looks Dex gives him. It's mostly cutting glances here and there, flickers of interest in passing or moments of focus that flash in his amber eyes. Derek thinks nothing of it, for a long time, till he realises the sentiment behind the looks.

Dex is the same as him; he wants contact, wants physical affirmation that Derek’s here, he isn't going anywhere. And if that means they fight about everything from defensive techniques to vodka brands, then so be it; negative interaction is better than none at all.

Derek knows, on some deeper level, that he and Dex have the same fundamental problem: neither was paid enough attention when they were younger, so they acted out, in their own ways, to get it. While Derek opted for a more subtle approach since his moms really did try (they were just so busy with work all the time), Dex had been forced to resort to drastic measures because nothing short of a fistfight will be noticed in a household with eight kids. And when you put them together, it just amplifies that primal need; the need to be seen, heard, felt, even if it's only by the grazing of knuckles across skin.

So they fight, and they fight often; and when they aren't fighting, Dex is looking at him like he wants to be. Or maybe he wants to be held, comforted, but then again fighting has become a comfort by some twisted logic along the way. And Derek may have a way with words, but he isn't frank, so he finds himself at a loss when it comes to approaching the topic of his feelings for Dex.

Because he wants to break him, to see that shine of blood on his face again, but he also wants to kiss away the pain he's caused and let Dex nurse his wounds, too. And maybe that's why they work; they break each other, then put the pieces of their shattered selves back together somehow, and it's not perfect and it sure as fuck isn't healthy but it's something, and sometimes that's everything.

So they break down, and when Dex looks at Derek like he misses the kiss of his fist, Derek just says, “Stop looking at me like that.” And eventually, Derek learns to simply kiss the pained look away, even if the act itself leaves Dex’s lips bruised and swollen and redder than the Samwell sweatshirt that hangs from his shoulders.

It reminds Derek of a busted lip, a blood pact, a promise that the pain will fade into pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, feel free to chirp me about my mediocre writing or scream about Nurseydex with me [on tumblr](http://irlkent.tumblr.com).


End file.
